#bwcovenstarter

[amityxbell-blog]

“Christ, another person dead, one missing... How can we let this happen?”

[aidasamuel]

“No, really. What’s the harm of one more round? It’s not like anyone’s gonna live long enough to have their livers slide out.”

[chris-judge]

Christopher stood near the crosswalk, looking to the other side of the street. He balanced himself on his crutches more heavily than usual, leg still aching residually from the “party” a few nights ago. The events there weighed heavily on his mind, and he’d barely managed to come to work today, even though half the staff was gone and no one had come in to get their cars fixed anyway.

Footsteps approached, and Christopher swallowed before he looked over. “Hey you aren’t by chance heading over to the grocery store, are you?”

[amityxbell-blog]

“I cut my hair, that’s probably why you didn’t recognise me.”

[aidasamuel]

The rules had changed, and she no longer knew how to play the game. Not the game of life, not the game of living, but the game of survival. There were people she had been, there was who she had become, and there was who she would be after -- but all those women were defined by her own innate ability to survive. What was she without that? A dead girl walking?

She had spent the last few days in bed -- better that than dead. In bed, she could see the world through the lens of her grandfather’s old abandoned Super 8. Outside her window it was grainy, the lens was unfocused. She could hear the laughter outside her room, her grandmother was still alive. Maybe her father was too. She was seventeen, or she was someone else. She wanted to go back to the times that were, and the times that had never been.

But Aida wasn’t in her bed. She was on her front steps, watching the town go by. It was quiet now -- understandably. People were scared, she should have been too. Maybe she was. Her cigarette burned close to her fingers, she stared at it until a piece of ash fell on her knee and she put it out on the old white wood beside her. She looked tired. No sleep would do that to a person. Dark circles padded hazy eyes and made her cheeks look hollow. 

She hadn’t called in sick, but then, she hadn’t gone to work either. She wondered if someone had opened it for her, or if Common Grounds remained unopened. Empty. All the lights turned off. 

“Whatever,” Aida spoke to herself, a hand running over her face. They felt more callous than usual. Dryer. She was too cold to feel this warm. 

She heard steps coming up the walk, she didn’t look up.

“No offense, but I can’t deal with fucking people today.”

[freya-fletcher-blog]

“Well, I for one think the curfew is a good idea,” Freya had laughed when she heard the new rule but didn’t say as much then, sincerity written on her face and in her voice. “Who knows what’s out there. Especially with those poor kids– how awful for their families.”

[harriett-crowley]

Harriett locked up the library, a few books tucked under her arm. She had just stuffed the keys into her bag when another figure approached and she turned, having sensed them moments before. “Sorry, we’re closing early for the rest of the week.” Curfew had been set in place and she doubted people would be crowding the library anyway, especially in light of recent events. She’d be busy with the Council for the rest of the week herself.

[benjamin-mackenzie-blog]

“What a tragedy. It’s such a shame to see young life lost, but to see it done in such a horrific manner,” he trails off slightly. To any outside observer, he appears solemn, but to one of his own he looks like the royal prick he is. “There are deaths similar to this all throughout history, usually involving legends of witches. Well, witches and hunters. Not that any of that is real, but an interesting thought. The exactitudes are fascinating -- well, fascinating in a macabre sort of way.”